


one place lightning hits the ground

by silox4



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Clothed Sex, Kissing, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Scandal, Top Henry, they're in love okay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 12:31:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21299507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silox4/pseuds/silox4
Summary: Alex gets out on the ninth floor and hurries down the hall. He doesn’t run - he’s not quite that desperate - but his little half jog is not something that he’s proud of. He counts the numbers up to room 937, and slips the card into the slot. The lock whirs and the light turns green, and then Alex is shoving his way in and Henry is there on the end of the bed, still dressed from the presentation and reading an email and looking up at him, and Alex’s whole world shifts a centimeter to the left and falls back into place.One of many stolen moments during Alex and Henry's relationship, this time with added tie bondage.
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor
Comments: 17
Kudos: 495





	one place lightning hits the ground

Alex leans back in his seat and tries not to vibrate out of his skin. It’s not going very well.

He’s fifty minutes deep into a presentation about German steel production led by Westphalia’s finest and his suit is too tight around his shoulders. He can feel the airplane still on him - the brief shower he’d gotten in between the Dortmund airport and the tech giant headquarters he’s sat in now hadn’t been nearly enough. It’s the type of airplane feeling that can only be cured by kicking off one’s pants and rolling around on the hotel bed and taking a nap, and Alex hasn’t done any of those things, so he hooks a finger in the collar of his shirt and tugs at it a little to try to keep from getting too twitchy.

He glances around the room. Everything is neat and shiny and clean, and everyone in the room matches. Alex isn’t sure why they’re all here, to be honest - Dortmund hasn’t been a steel city in ages, and it certainly isn’t about to return to its glory days with the hum of technology running through its veins. But here they are anyway, being reminded yet again about the humble, crucible-based beginnings of forging, and Alex would be so tempted to just get up and leave if it weren’t for the little flash of Henry’s hair that he keeps seeing across the room.

It’s his third trip in a month, and the second that he orchestrated to go to because Henry would be able to come as well. Homework lurks in his backpack in the hotel, homework that was barely touched on the flight over and will be staunchly ignored until the flight back. Alex would prefer to sleep on the way home, but he certainly won’t be getting any sleep tonight, so he’ll just have to grit his teeth and maybe try that thing Nora told him about a college student dumping a Monster energy drink in some coffee. That probably won’t kill him, maybe.

This roundabout dance that he has to do can be exhausting sometimes. He’ll bear dark circles under his eyes for a week afterwards. He’ll drown himself in class and let the hyperfocus carry him until he passes out. He’ll curse the name of everyone in the North Rhine, sequentially and repeatedly, for whatever industry they used to have. But Alex will do it, and he will do it happily, because the other choice is not waking up and seeing Henry’s face next to his, soft and slack from sleep and the temporary shelving of expectations, and that is no choice at all.

After twenty-three more skin-vibrating minutes, of which Alex remembers nothing other than the way Henry’s fingers curl around a pen as he takes notes – _ notes_, honest to fucking God, how is he even paying attention – one merciful man starts the polite applause and frees Alex from steel production hell. He claps along and stands up and stretches as everyone starts closing their notebooks and murmuring to each other. He glances at the back of the room, where Amy and the rest of the bodyguards are posted. She pulls the slightest face at him and he presses his lips together to avoid a smile. Amy matches him, and he’s not sure why, until a familiar smell breathes into his lungs and settles in his chest, making his whole body shiver and relax, and he glances up to see Henry approaching.

“Henry,” Alex breathes, because why would he bother to say things like a normal person.

“Alex!” Henry replies, much more businesslike. “How lovely to see you again.”

He’s putting on a show, Alex’s brain supplies. The press cameras are all in the back with the bodyguards and anything less than strictly platonic could be captured in the corner of a picture and plastered all over the Daily Mail. Henry holds his hand out and Alex takes it to shake, and he feels smooth plastic being pressed into his palm. 

“Nine thirty-seven,” Henry says cheerfully and gives Alex a friendly smile. It takes Alex a second to parse that, and Henry’s already pulling away and clapping Alex on the shoulder. Alex tucks his hands into his pockets and nods as Henry walks away, and he runs his thumb around the edge of the plastic card that Henry had passed him. An open invitation. 

Henry can be such a dramatic bitch.

_you didn’t even tell me which hotel you’re staying at_, he texts Henry later in the car. Amy is driving him, and she doesn’t ask why they’re going to a hotel that isn’t the one they’re staying at but she does still have that lips-pressed-together smirk that lets Alex know that she doesn’t have to. _ you’re lucky i’m such a genius_

_ The name of the hotel is on the card, darling_, Henry texts back. _ I know you know how to read. _

_ see? genuis _

_ *genius _

_ You are not making a strong case for yourself. _

_ i’ll make a strong case for you ;) _

_ Not with that kind of spelling. _

_ ok mr. english degree. _

Amy pulls into the hotel lot for people who are too important and high-security for valets and parks the car. “We’re here,” she points out unnecessarily, as if Alex hasn't been vibrating out of his seat for the last five minutes.

“Excellent.” Alex is already getting out of the car. He stretches again and his suit jacket protests.

Amy lets herself out and hip checks the door closed, then presses the lock button on the key. The car beeps angrily. “Gonna go rub elbows with some diplomats?”

“Might do.”

“I will be in the bar.”

“You might wanna pace yourself.”

“I am never taking you to Germany again,” Amy says. 

“If I never have to come back here, it’ll be too soon,” Alex replies. He turns and heads for the underground entrance, and the familiar feeling of Amy falling into step four or five paces behind him settles in his limbs. They head inside and take the elevator up to the lobby, and then Amy steps out, sticks her foot in the door, and gives him a once over.

“I expect you to stay in this hotel.”

“Trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m not either, apparently,” Amy says. “Have fun. Be political.”

“Ugh,” Alex says succinctly, and Amy grins again and lets the door close.

Alex hits the ninth floor button and reaches into his pocket again. There’s no chance the card would have fallen out in the last forty-five seconds since he last checked, but it’s still soothing to touch it. It helps to know that he’s only a minute away from what it promises.

He gets out on the ninth floor and hurries down the hall. He doesn’t run - he’s not _ quite _ that desperate - but his little half jog is not something that he’s proud of. He counts the numbers up to room 937, and slips the card into the slot. The lock whirs and the light turns green, and then Alex is shoving his way in and Henry is there on the end of the bed, still dressed from the presentation and reading an email and looking up at him, and Alex’s whole world shifts a centimeter to the left and falls back into place.

Henry gets up off the bed and Alex pushes the door closed behind him. He fumbles around until he finds the second deadbolt and turns it, and then Henry’s on him, pressing his face into Alex’s neck and running his hands up Alex’s sides. Alex melts into him and drapes his arms over Henry’s shoulders and his skin sings.

“Christ,” Henry murmurs against his throat. He’s holding Alex tightly now, their chests finally together again even through several layers of diplomacy, and Alex his holding onto him just as hard. “I thought we’d never get here.”

_ I saw you an hour ago_, Alex does not say, because he feels the same way. He just clings to Henry, and he’ll kiss him in a second, but it feels so good to be held after two weeks away.

“I thought you were going to make a break for it at the presentation,” Henry says. His nose brushes Alex’s ear and Alex’s knees almost buckle. “You were so twitchy.”

“Was not." It comes out much more breathy than he intends. Possibly because Henry is pressing him more and more against the door like he’s trying to climb into Alex’s skin and it’s hard to think about anything other than being covered by him.

“Were too,” Henry corrects. His hands drag up Alex’s sides again and then fist in the lapels of his suit. “I could see you. Tapping your fingers on the table and ripping up the edges of your notepad.”

“I was trying to pay attention.”

“Impressive if you were able. I couldn’t focus on a bloody thing except for you.” 

Alex shudders. He should be embarrassed, probably, but he isn’t. Henry pushes him a little more, pinning him firmly to the door, and Alex has no choice but to turn his head to the side and finally catch Henry’s lips. Henry’s breath rushes out of him and he drags Alex against his chest, still holding onto his suit. He pulls them both backwards, step by unsteady step, until the backs of Henry’s knees bump into the bed. Alex leans forward, angling to push Henry back onto it, but then Henry’s foot steps to the right to hook around Alex’s ankle and they’re spinning and suddenly Alex is flat on his back, bouncing a little on the mattress, and Henry is crawling on top of him and Alex is suddenly a bit light-headed from all of the blood in his body diverting course.

Henry’s kissing him again, dominating all of his senses in the most perfect way. Alex reaches for him, tries to curl his hands around Henry’s back, the nape of his neck, but Henry catches his wrists and presses them back against the bed. “Let me,” he breathes, letting Alex taste the words shared between their lips. 

“Fuck,” Alex breathes back. Henry lets go of his wrist to run a hand through his hair, to touch his throat, to wrap around him and try to merge them into one person. It’s only been two weeks since they last did this, but at the same time, it’s been two whole weeks since they last did this and Alex is drowning. Henry’s biting at his lip and brushing his tongue against Alex’s and rolling their bodies together - not just their hips, but their whole beings, like they’re in the ocean, riding the tide as it rushes in and out - and Alex’s blood is on fire. Henry catches Alex's lip again and Alex scratches at Henry’s back, his nails scraping over the fine wool, and then Henry’s fingers are closing around his wrists again. This time they squeeze and Alex’s brain shorts out with a fizzy little explosion of heat.

“I said let me,” Henry says. His voice is low and husky and it makes Alex feel like he’s finally getting to roll around on those hotel sheets, if the hotel sheets were also made of melted dark chocolate and cream and pressing enticingly on a very hopeful erection. “Can’t you behave?”

“No,” Alex says honestly. He flexes against Henry’s grip, and Henry’s fingers tighten even more. It startles a soft little whimpering noise out of Alex’s chest. 

Henry’s eyes flash and his lips pull back in a bit of a smirk. “Allow me to help you with that, then.”

He lets go of Alex’s wrists and Alex’s brain protests the sudden lack of warmth and pressure, but Henry’s hands are at his throat now, tugging at his tie. He pops a button on Alex’s shirt collar and Alex sighs against the air that’s allowed to brush over his overheated skin, and then Henry’s tugging the tie off over his head. He catches Alex’s wrist again, and Alex doesn’t know how Henry has the brain power or the motor skills to pull it off, because his own brain is so sluggish on adoration and arousal that it feels like he just blinks and his wrists are pressed together, wrapped in silk that gets tighter every second. 

“Oh, fuck,” Alex rasps.

“Indeed.” Henry manages to sound smug, but Alex can see his eyes and they’re dark, pupils wide, hunger shining in them. “Come here, baby.”

There’s that little whimpering sound again. Henry will tease him for that later, probably, but right now, he’s half dragging Alex up the bed and it’s all Alex can do to scoot up. Henry threads the tie around one slat of the bed frame and ties a knot and Alex’s brain provides him the irritated face of whatever dry cleaner will have to deal with the wrinkles before Henry’s back in his lap and his brain isn’t providing much of anything.

“That should help,” Henry purrs. “Are you going to let me now?”

“Yeah, God, anything,” Alex says. “Henry.”

Henry hums and his eyelashes flutter a little. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, and Alex flushes down to the unbuttoned button of his shirt. 

“Please.” He cants his hips a little. It’s very obvious that he’s hard, but so is Henry, and Henry might be in the business of denying Alex what he wants, but Henry wants it just as much.

“Christ,” Henry breathes again. “What a sight you are.”

He leans down and crushes their mouths together again, sharp. Their teeth click together a little and Henry very poorly swallows down a moan. Alex immediately tries to reach for him and the tie jerks him back. He lets out a frustrated whine, but Henry swallows that too, and then his hands are between them, working at Alex’s shirt. 

The buttons must fumble themselves open, because Henry is doing a piss-poor job of doing anything but kissing Alex and Alex is doing a piss-poor job of caring. Kissing Henry is everything until suddenly palms are on Alex’s bare chest, thumbs are brushing over his nipples and down the outlines of his ribs. Henry pulls away and Alex opens his mouth to complain, but all that manages to get out is a high, thready moan when Henry’s tongue is fire against his sternum. He writhes a little when Henry’s lips close around one nipple and he wraps his thighs around Henry’s waist, trying to get any friction as Henry plays his body like Bea’s guitar.

“Henry, baby, please, you’re killing me, fuck,” he pants, and Henry’s hips are twitching against the bed and Alex wants so badly for the bed to be him. “Come on, please, I just wanna touch you…”

“You can’t,” Henry says. He sounds firm, authoritative, but he also sounds like his dick is about to rip through the front of his suit. “But I can.”

He sits back and makes much quicker work of Alex’s belt than he had the shirt, and then he’s tugging Alex’s pants and underwear down under his ass, as far as he’s willing to take the time for before he gravitates back toward Alex like a planet toward a sun. Alex’s cock is flushed and dark, lying heavy against his hip, and Alex allows himself the tiniest little ego stroke at the way Henry swallows hard and clenches his fists when he sees it. 

Then Henry looks up and meets his eyes and Alex is pretty sure he’s totally fucked.

Henry ducks down and Alex’s world condenses down into several inches of hot, wet pleasure. He strains against the tie but the knot holds firm, and all he wants to do is bury his hands in Henry’s hair and thrust into his mouth, but he can’t. He’s stretched too thin, the angle all wrong with his shoulders bumping the headboard, and he can only shake apart as Henry swallows him down deeper and deeper each time. Henry’s eyes fall closed and his face is blissed out, like this is all he ever wanted to do, and Alex watches him for as long as he can before Henry gives a particularly firm suck and Alex throws his head back against the headboard instead and gasps for air. 

Henry’s hands are on him again, and it’s impossible to focus. They’re pressing his hips into the bed, and then toying with his nipples, and then digging gentle scratches into his sides, and then reaching up and pressing two damp fingers into Alex’s mouth. Alex tastes himself, sucks on those fingers like he wants to be sucking on something else, and he swears when Henry takes his hand back and rubs up against the space behind Alex’s balls with his knuckles.

“Baby, ‘m gonna fucking come,” he gasps, when the head of his cock is deep in Henry’s throat and he can feel the ghost of the intent of fingers inside him. “‘M so fuckin’ close.”

Henry moans again, and the vibrations make Alex want to cry. It’s so fucking good and Henry is so fucking sweet. His eyelashes fan over his cheeks with just the slightest hints of moisture beading in them from suppressing his gag reflex. Alex wants to brush them away, wants to pull Henry’s hair until he comes, wants to trail his fingertips over Henry’s cheek and press them into Henry's mouth alongside his cock and see how wide Henry's lips can stretch, how much of him Henry can take. But he can’t, because all of the atoms in his being are being shaken apart by the man in his lap, who looks up at him with hazy, blown out eyes that speak of adoration and hunger and drowning in unequal measures.

Henry refuses to let up and Alex can’t even cover his mouth, so he all but wails when he comes, a desperate and frantic note, wordless and jagged. Henry’s eyes close again and he lets out a soft, guttural noise of pleasure as Alex floods his mouth, and the hungry working of his throat just prolongs the waves that crash over Alex until the tide goes out again and his whole body is spent. He drops his head and arms back against the bed and his shoulders protest their position a little, but then Henry’s crawling up again, walking on his knees until he’s hovering over Alex’s chest, and Alex blinks up at him hazily, his lips still parted.

“Are you still with me, love?” Henry asks. Gentle, for the moment.

“Yeah,” Alex says. He clears his throat. “Yeah, baby, ‘m good.”

Henry bites his lip, already swollen and pink from the stretch. Alex can’t help but smile a little. “Do you think you can be good for a little while longer?”

“Anything you want,” Alex says immediately.

Henry looks down at him and his fingers stroke through Alex’s hair again. Alex hums softly and presses into it, and Henry just cups his cheek for a moment like he's made of fine Venetian glass. His fingers are gentle and still warm and he handles Alex like he's afraid that Alex will disappear and Alex doesn't think he's ever felt so revered.

Then Henry pulls back and reaches for his own fly, and that gets Alex’s attention fast.

The image of Henry above him, fully dressed in a three piece suit, hand around his cock and hunger in his eyes, makes him want to roll over and bare his throat. Henry can be shy, but he can also be domineering, overpowering, can tie Alex to a bed and lean forward and nudge the head of his cock against Alex’s lower lip until Alex licks it clean and opens his mouth as wide as he can and begs with his eyes to be taken.

Henry lets out a deep, shuddery breath, and he scoots forward a little more, tucking his knees under Alex's arms. He rests his hands on the headboard and allows himself to just rest in Alex’s mouth for a moment. It’s a quiet moment, nearly serene, Henry gazing down at Alex and stroking his hair, and then Alex closes his lips tight around the head of Henry’s cock and Henry gasps out a soft curse and bucks his hips forward.

He crowds Alex back against the headboard and thrusts into his mouth. Alex’s mind is pleasantly fuzzy, and all he wants to do is revel in the heavy weight of Henry pressing down on his tongue over and over. He slackens his jaw and pulls his lips over his teeth and lets Henry fuck into his mouth, pushing a little deeper all the time. He overwhelms all of Alex’s senses until there’s nothing but the scent of Henry and sweat and sex, and the feeling of his mouth being lovingly used for Henry to take himself apart with. Henry’s flushed dark now, all the way under his collar and the vee that the opening of his suit pants displays like a curtain, and he’s rapidly falling apart, Alex’s favorite sight in the whole world. He wants to ask for it, he wants Henry to fill his mouth and let him taste what pleasure is from the other end, to kiss Henry after and let their shared bliss linger on both of their tongues. He wants to see Henry’s face when his orgasm hits more than almost anything and he is not disappointed.

Henry isn’t loud when he comes, but he gasps out Alex’s name, which is infinitely better. Alex chokes a little when he tries to swallow, but he forces himself to breathe through it and gives Henry a few more soft sucks. He licks at the slit, hunting out any vestiges of the taste of Henry, until Henry is oversensitive and squirming, and then Henry finally pulls away and sits back heavily on Alex’s hips. Alex grunts and blinks up at him and he knows that the soft feeling in his chest is written plainly across his face because it’s mirrored on the face that looks back at him. 

Henry reaches out and brushes his thumb over Alex’s lower lip. Alex presses a kiss to it and Henry shivers a little. He just lets his hand rest on Alex’s cheek again, and then reaches up and tugs on the tie knot to set Alex free. Alex slowly lowers his arms and rolls his shoulders a few times, then then immediately reaches for Henry, who’s scooting down so that he can blanket Alex’s entire body with his own. Henry lets out a very soft moan and buries his face in Alex’s throat again.

“Perfect,” he murmurs. “God. How did I ever get so lucky?”

Alex’s heart soars. “Let me know when you figure it out,” he replies, pressing his face into Henry’s hair. Soon, they’ll have to pull apart, to undress, to shower, to text their respective handlers as if no one knows what’s happening, But for now, they have this moment, and that’s everything. “Because I was wondering the same thing.”


End file.
